Angel
by Bandersnatch91
Summary: In the month of December Dean had blamed himself for a child's death, His savior comes to rescue him from despair. Day 6 of 25 days of fic challenge.


**-Angel-**

Dean sat alone in the small broken down motel he had rented. The job was done, and yet he hadn't had the nerve to move. He felt guilty. He had unintentionally killed a child, even if he wasn't who pulled the trigger, he still was responsible. It was a few weeks before Christmas and that little boy would never see another Christmas, open presents, or even life his live. Dean lifted his beer bottle to his lips only to find it empty.

He raised his head when the sound of a click, and fizzing of a new beer being opened caught his attention. "Sammy?" Dean called out. Wanting to at least spend a few moments with his brother, however when the beer opener replied, it was in fact, not Sam.

"No Dean. Sam's gone and you know that." The rugged voice replied. Dean lifted his head into the brown chocolate eyes of his Angel. His one and true Savior. Fuck, god, demons, witches, and monsters for all eternity, as long as he could have Castiel.

"Cas.." Came the struggled reply. He took the bottle choked on a sob that he would deny for the rest of his life and downed his bottle of cold suds. He pulled the bottle from his lips, wiping his mouth and paused as if staring into nothing. "Did he-"

He didn't even have to ask, Castiel already knew what he would want to know. A godsend that angel was.

"He is with the Lord now, with all the family that had moved on. You did well Dean. It is best if you do not dwell on his death." Castiel placed a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder, while he himself down his own drink.

"I thought angel's didn't drink."

"It is never fun to drink alone. Or so you've told me on many occasions." Replied the brown haired angel.

Dean stared at Castiel, never really seeing him until now. If asked later, in a time further in the future he would not recall what it was that inspired him to sin like this. Maybe it was that he was tired of the thousands of women, perhaps it was the boy's death, Mickey his name was. All that he knew in this moment in time was that it just, felt right.

He leaned forward placing his drink on the coffee table as he did so and pulled Castiel into a kiss letting his lips linger before moving them once again against those lips. Stubble rubbed against his own shaven face, and it made him shiver. His hands moved into the dark brown locks of the angel's vessel. The Vessel that had his own wife and children at home, and Dean, whom had lost his own family and adopted son to the life of a Hunter that he lived, and the many women that he had spent his nights with.

Tonight was just for them. For him, who had fallen on hard times. For Castiel who knew no love but that of god, and had never known sins of the flesh. For this moment in time, with Sam gone ahead, Dean was able to live in this moment, in this chapter in his life that he would never forget, and would deny unless brought up alone by Castiel. For he was Cas', and Cas was his.

That familiar feeling that he had been striving to feel-that alive feeling that enveloped his body when Castiel kissed back had felt like no other kiss he had shared before. Never before this did life actually make sense. Within that moment sitting on the couch alone a few weeks before Christmas, everything had made sense, and his entire world revolved around Castiel.

Through the discarding of clothes, and in the passions of sex,position, after position, orgasm after orgasm did he feel like he could move on for himself. For Castiel, and for Mickey who would never know what living and growing up would be like anymore beyond the years of 9, he had realized what there was to live for. It was glorious, and perhaps Castiel would say that this was what god had wanted from him all along.

Dean laid awake long after Castiel had left, his work and shoulder done with, he thought about the things that should make him get up, get going on the road and perhaps grab a bacon double cheeseburger while he was headed that way. He also knew he had to catch up with Sam. Sam; who had turned into a monster, and that he no longer recognized his baby brother. Who was all he had to live for, well not anymore he had Cas. He would always have Cas. Always when he needed him. Yet through all this internal debate he had yet to move, relishing the scent that his angel had left.

After a quick shower, Dean picked up his tools, weapons, and clothes, ready to head out for another job. As the job was never finished. It would always need doing. Something he sometimes wondered why he did what he did, even though when he was younger that was the way things were, and you were never meant to question them.

As Dean headed out of his motel room a piece of paper had caught his eye that hadn't been there before. A note scribbled in Cas' handwriting made him take a breath and close his eyes. He fought the turmoil and whirlwind of emotions inside himself. He clenched the note in his hands, and headed out to meet his baby.

He stepped out onto the street, and put his luggage in the back of the impala, and his weapons in the trunk. He searched his pockets for his zippo lighter flicking it as if in a decision and burnt the piece of paper. For he would not need a material object to remind him of what was written on the paper. He would always remember it, and call of him if he needed him. For he was his, and Castiel was his.

His angel…

** -End-**


End file.
